


My Love Will Never Die

by mltrefry



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Flashbacks, M/M, adam young is mentioned, no final prophecy from Agnes, we're on our own side
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 05:50:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21174458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mltrefry/pseuds/mltrefry
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale face their executions with the memories of the hours before lingering in their minds. Only things don’t go quite as anyone expected….An AU from TV canon in which the last prophecy of Agnes Nutter doesn't exist.





	My Love Will Never Die

**Author's Note:**

> This came to me on a walk home yesterday, and I spent the few precious hours I had typing it up and put it on Tumblr. Only, it was literally my most well received ficlit posted there, so I wanted to put it here.  
If you've been following me for _Somewhere Only We Know_, sorry, I working on it. Promise.
> 
> One person marked this is OOC, maybe it is, I dunno.
> 
> Title and part inspiration from "My Love Will Never Die" by AG feat Claire Wyndham

He watched the holy water fill the tub, and sighed quietly to himself, resigned. It was a good run, really. Six thousand or so years, the last few decades with more Aziraphale than he’d ever thought he’d get, especially that last one. It was wonderful, best years of his long life, really.

Though last night was easily _the _best. How could it not be?

_“This is, in all likelihood, the last night we live.” Aziraphale had said in the quiet darkness of Crowley’s flat. He looked to his hands, wringing them before hesitantly reaching for Crowley’s hand._

_“Crowley,” he said his name so reverently that the demon’s knees buckled a little. “My dear, dear Crowley. If this is our last night, the last moments of our lives….”_

_“Angel-” He tried to interrupt, but Aziraphale shook his head._

_“No, dearest, I must confess. Because I think… I think if I keep quiet much longer I’ll surely die all the sooner.” He smiled, sadly. “Well, inconveniently discorporate from an implosion of the heart. But, well, it would just mean heaven would get a hold of me that much sooner.” He took a deep breath, “I love you. I have… for so long.”_

Hearing those words was all he really needed, everything that came after? That was just the … thing that goes on cake, whatever it was. Aziraphale would certainly know. 

That’s what he thought about as he prepared for his fate, a fate he’d always known was going to come. The Arrangement was always going to be his end, but at least the last hours before said end were…_everything._

The water finally stopped pouring, the tub ready. The small usher, a toad-like creature, was sacrificed to ensure the holiness of the water, and Crowley averted his eyes behind his sunglasses so he wouldn’t have to watch.

“Demon Crowley, I sentence you to execution by holy water. Do you have anything to say?” Beelzebub asked.

Crowley glanced down at his feet, his eyes catching on his tie, his jacket.

_Hands gripped his lapels to pull him in, a giggle of pure joy against his lips before those hands ran from the lapels to his tie._

“Yes, this is a new jacket, mind if I take it off?” Let one thing from the last few hours survive.

“Keep making jokes, funny man.” Hastur sneered.

Crowley’s lip curled, but he kept his mouth shut as he removed his jacket. And then his tie. Maybe there would be enough holiness somewhere in the fibers that a demon would burn their fingers when they picked it up after he met his demise. But that’s all he removed, all he was willing to. He wasn’t about to give the demons a show.

Jacket and tie discarded, Crowley squared his shoulders. He was never very brave, he’d always been more than willing to run than face up to things, but he thought of his angel. His brave, wonderful angel who was likely no longer in existence. Human’s had an afterlife, but did angels? Do demons?

Only one way to find out.

He took a breath, and and inched forward. Crowley turned around inching back, his legs hitting the lip of the tub. He closed his eyes, and he remembered. He remembered Aziraphale through the years, of course, there were so many memories. But he focused mostly on their last hours. Of lips on lips, of sighs and giggles. Of “I love you” spoken so reverently it must have been a form of blasphemy.

As he exhaled, he sunk backward.

* * *

Aziraphale felt much less confident than he portrayed, looking at the pit of hellfire roaring toward the ceiling. He knew, logically, that this was the only way to truly kill an angel. And though he was pretty sure that he and Crowley were not going to survive to see another night, he still had a hard time believing this was happening. There was still a small part of him that thought perhaps he’d be imprisoned or set to task for the rest of eternity. They were meant to be the good guys, after all, which was a thought he voiced earlier. Not that it was heard.

Heaven had to make an example of traitors, after all. But how was he a traitor? He certainly didn’t turn his back on the Almighty, and he was more certain now than he ever was that the Great Plan was not Her plan, not the Ineffable Plan. He truly believed if Armageddon was meant to happen, it would have, and he wouldn’t have spent the night….

Oh, the night. He felt his heart flutter at the memory.

_“You don’t have to say it,” He told Crowley, gripping his hand tighter as Crowley continued to stare at him in disbelief. “I’ve felt it for a long while, my dear. Your affections, that is. I’ve tried to ignore it, admittedly. What could be done, we were on opposite sides for so long? But Crowley-”_

_“I love you,” Crowley rushed. “I love you, I love you, Angel, I love you, I love-”_

_Aziraphale gripped Crowley’s lapels and pulled him in, silencing the demon by kissing him happily. He giggled as Crowley, momentarily stunned, was suddenly very enthusiastic. As Aziraphale was pulled closer, his hands moved to Crowley’s tie_. 

The heat on his skin now, radiating from the inferno before him, wasn’t nearly as lovely as the heat he’d felt on his skin just hours before. They may have come from the same place, but they were infinitely different.

At least he had that, that knowledge of Crowley’s skin, and mouth, and words deep in his soul to take with him when he left the realm. Whether he moved on or simply vanished, he would carrying that joy, the love, with him. A joy and love he never felt here, in heaven, among those he was meant to call his own. A joy and love second only to the almighty, though he had a feeling that, had it surpassed even that, She would not be all that upset. She was about love, wasn’t she? And they were meant to love all creatures. If he loved one demon more than anyone and anything else, well….  
He looked at Gabriel, Uriel, Sandalphon, wondering to himself for a moment if they knew love. Proper love, not just that of heaven that they sensed more than felt. Did they knew what it was like to have someone who they could always count on to be there? That made existence that much better?

No, he didn’t think they did. He hoped they would, one day. He truly did, even if he didn’t like any of them very much.

Maybe if they do, the future will be different. Maybe the angel that will take his place on Earth will befriend Crowley’s replacement. Maybe they’ll understand that they weren’t so different. Maybe….  
But he won’t be around to know, will he?

“Right,” He sighed, standing taller. “Well, lovely knowing you all. Maybe we meet on a better occasion.”

“We won’t.” Gabriel said, a bit too cheerful behind his stony demeanor. “It’s hellfire. It will destroy you absolutely and utterly and for ever. Now shut your stupid mouth and die, already.” He grinned, just for a moment, before glaring.

Aziraphale’s jaw tightened. Okay, perhaps maybe he didn’t wish the sort of love he had for Crowley on Gabriel.

Crowley.

Aziraphale turned to the fire, and focused on his demon.

_Hands on his back, his sides, in his hair. Beautiful, golden eyes closed in ecstasy. Hisses coming unbidden and uncontrolled, but for once in sheer bliss than stress._

Aziraphale closed his eyes, remembering the way Crowley’s voice broke on the pet name he’d deny was a pet name as he stepped into the hellfire.

* * *

It took Crowley a few seconds to realize he’d replayed the night before a bit longer than someone who was dead should be able to. And then, as he came back to himself, he felt uncomfortably wet.  
It was a great thing he’d had so much practice at playing cool, otherwise the surprise he’d felt would have been clear on his face when he opened his eyes and found himself very much alive, sitting in a bathtub in Hell.

Had… had the water been replaced somehow? No, no, he watched the little usher melt in this same tub. Could that have neutralized the water somehow?

Crowley lifted his hand out of the water, watching the droplets fall from his fingers a moment before flinging his hand toward the window next to the tub, spraying the droplets against it.

It sizzled harshly, the demons behind the protective glass jumping back as small puffs of smoke wafted above Crowley’s head.

Right, so not neutralized.

He sunk down a little further into the tub, miracling the water a bit warmer. 

He sighed happily. “That’s better.” He said, shifting his legs, stretching them out, crossing his ankles and not-so-accidentally sloshing water over the edge of the tub. The sizzle was loud, the yelps of the demons in the faux courtroom jumping back was louder, and far more amusing. “Quite relaxing, really. A bit cool at first, but once ya warm if up it’s very nice.” He turned and smirked at Hastur, glancing at Beelzebub, “You should try it sometime.”

They stood horrified, and Crowley didn’t blame them. He was terrified, so much so he lulled his head back, then turned to catch his face in the glass. He took off his glasses, dipping them in the water before tossing them over the side. As they clanked against the floor, he focused his attention on the snake eyes reflecting back.

So, not risen, that was… well not good. Wasn’t precisely bad, either.

He didn’t know what it was, actually.

“The water, in the flat,” he heard Hastur say. “In the mister. He could have….”

Oh. Right. He had bluffed but if he hadn’t, well, it didn’t matter did it?

There was a ding, and Crowley turned his head to watch Michael come into the room.

“I’ve come to collect the - Oh, lord!” She gasped, tightening her grip on the jug.

“Sorry, wrong floor.” He said, turning back and sinking back in the tub, his heart beginning to pound.

If she were here, back so soon… did she… did she come from Heaven? Had she seen Aziraphale…?

There was talking in the room, but Crowley couldn’t hear them. Didn’t want to hear them, because if she mentioned what happened to his angel, he wouldn’t be able to keep his cool. He wouldn’t be able to take the minor bit of joy that was coursing through him for surviving his execution.

He closed his eyes again, recalling the morning before they took the walk they knew would be their last. Or, thought. He remembered the way the light made Aziraphale’s curls glow, the sparkle in his eyes that was made of love, and joy, and a just a touch of tears. He remembered the feel of his angel’s fingers on his cheek, the breath on his chin.

“You, up.” Michael commanded, and he opened his eyes. He looked up, and saw something in Michael’s eyes he hadn’t seen before: weariness.

Crowley looked past her to Beelzebub. They were standing a few feet behind Michael, looking expectant, a little worried. Hastur was behind them, smiling smugly.

“Alright,” Crowley shurgged, swung his feet around, pushing himself up, sloshing so more water on the floor. Beelzebub stepped back a little, avoiding any run-off.

“Follow me.” Michael said, turning and waving at him over her shoulder as she headed to the elevator.

Crowley followed, sensing someone coming up the rear. The elevator doors opened, and Crowley followed Michael inside.

Beelzebub inched in as well, sticking to the walls and avoiding everywhere that Crowley stepped.

Well, he was going to dry off, but now? Where would be the fun in that?

* * *

He’d been able to recall Crowley’s arms around him for a bit too long, which could only mean that he was very much still alive. Yet, he knew this was hellfire. He saw the demon bring it up from below, he knew by the way the other angels took a step back that this was, indeed, the real thing. Probably.

He opened his eyes, and saw the utter terror in Gabriel, Uriel, and Sandalphon’s face.

Had he fallen?

No, he didn’t think falling would be utterly painless. This, this was warm, comforting, almost blissful.

He hummed happily. “This is nice.” He said with a smile, “pleasant. You should try it, really.“ He smiled bouncing on his toes a bit.

“What is he?” Uriel asked, and Gabriel could only shake his head, confusion and disgust evident.

There was the sound of “Do-Re-Mi” in a terrible, tinny recreation of a harp, and Sandalphon pulled a heavenly phone from his pocket.

“Hello?” He answered, never peeling his eyes off Aziraphale. “No, he’s not.”

Nothing else was said from Sandalphon’s end, and he ended the call, re-pocketing his phone, and only half turning toward Gabriel. “Michael is on her way up.” He said, “She’ll have company.”

“Company?” Gabriel said what Aziraphale was thinking, more confused now than disgusted, though he still didn’t take his eyes off Aziraphale.

Sandalphon merely nodded.

It was obvious they weren’t going to be letting him out of the fire just yet, at least not until Michael and company came, so Aziraphale relaxed a fraction. He let his mind drift to warmth beside him in the dark of the early morning, of a head of flaming hair resting on his chest for just a moment. He sighed heavily, and heard a startled, choked sound that probably came from Gabriel.

He only just realized after that his rather large puff of air had caused the hellfire to shoot out a bit.

Before he could give in to the temptation of doing it again, the elevator chimed. He turned, and watched as Michael came out of the elevator, followed by Beezlebub, and a very wet Crowley.

Maybe it was a mistake to smile the second their eyes met, but what was one more sin in the eyes of Heaven at this point? Well, Crowley didn’t smile so much as smirk, no glasses to cover the absolute adoration in his eyes. Oh, how often had that been hidden behind those dark shades, how many times in his life had he missed out on seeing them?

“Well,” Gabriel’s voice boomed, the smack of his hands breaking the small spell. “It seems our plans are a bit… spoiled.”

“It seemzz to be the case.” Beelzebub replied, a good few feet away from Crowley, eyeing him uncomfortably.

Gabriel stared at the short Prince of Hell, then gestured to Aziraphale. “Alright, step out of the flame.”

He did so, feeling a touch chilly as he did, like leaving a warm blanket next to a fire on a cold winter’s day.

“I have a thought.” Michael said after looking between he and Crowley for a moment, a v forming between her brows.

“What is it, Michael?” Gabriel asked, only a touch of his usual annoyance in his tone. Perhaps that really was just reserved for him, then.

She remained silent a moment, eyes still flitting back and forth before she miracled a tall, clear glass. She then began to pour from the jug she had in her hand.

“Demon Crowley,” She said conversationally as the glass filled. She righted the jug, then looked over at him. “You’re a bit wet. Perhaps you’d like to dry off.” She said, glancing at the tower of hellfire.

Crowley looked at it, shrugging.

“And maybe Aziraphale here would like a drink,” Michael added, extending the glass toward him. “You look like you could cool off after being in the flame.”

Aziraphale took the glass, an understanding coming to him just a second after Crowley seemed to get the gist of what the archangel was thinking.

“Michael, that’s brilliant,” Gabriel praised. “I mean, obviously, if they aren’t going to die by the usual methods, it needs to be a reversal, right?”

“Juzt get on with it.” Beelzebub huffed.

Aziraphale looked to Crowley who had been standing with a slight slouch, hands in his pockets as if this had all just been a very casual rendez-vous. He barely glanced at Aziraphale as he turned and moved to the flames, standing before it, taking those hands out of his pockets and standing straight.

Aziraphale wanted to call to him, but he didn’t have to. Crowley turned around, and looked at him with those serpentine eyes. He could see the words they couldn’t say as plainly as he felt them, radiating deep within his being.

* * *

It had never occurred to him that maybe he was immune to holy water only to be killed by hellfire now. And Crowley couldn’t say he was overly fond of the idea of dying in heaven, a place he hadn’t ever wanted to return to. But this way he wouldn’t have to have his last thoughts be memories of his angel, his last moments could be looking at him as he stood across from him, holding a glass of something that may be his demise.

It couldn’t be, though. Aziraphale had no more fallen than he had risen, so the water shouldn’t harm him. But then, the fire should have, and well….

Aziraphale raised his glass slightly, almost as if given a toast. He might have been exasperated if it weren’t for that tiny bit of worry in his eyes. But oddly, there was no fear.

Funny, Crowley realized, he hadn’t been afraid, either.

Aziraphale lifted the glass to his lips, holding Crowley’s eye the whole time, and the demon took a slight step back. The heat of the flame licked at his back, and the serpent in him begged for more. Still holding his angel’s eye, Crowley took that final step backward and Aziraphale tipped the contents of the glass into his mouth.

As the flames roared just a touch at having been disrupted once more, the only other sound in the room was the quite gulps of Aziraphale. The angel gave a contented sigh as he finished the drink.

“Lovely,” He said to himself, looking at the empty glass before looking back at Crowley. “How’s it, dear? Are you drying off?”

Crowley grinned, tilting his head from side to side, cracking his neck. “Yep,” he said softly, rolling his shoulders. “Could stay here all day. Care to join me?” He asked, twitching his brows.  
Aziraphale gave a startled laugh, blushing a little. “Perhaps not just now.”

“What,” Gabriel asked, cutting any further flirtatious banter off, “if going on. How…. How are neither of you dead?”

“They’ve gone native.” Beelzebub said, morbidly fascinated. “They aren’t one of uz anymore.”

“Then we torture them,” Sandalphon said simply, shrugging his stupid shoulders as he grinned with that stupid gold thingy in his teeth.

“No,” Michael said, and Gabriel looked so betrayed, Crowley had to swallow a laugh. He noted Aziraphale turning his head away, bowing it slightly, the mirth heavy in his eyes.

“No?” Gabriel nearly demanded.

Michael, calm as ever, turned to her fellow Archangel and shrugged. “No.” She repeated. “Lord Beelzebub is right, they aren’t one of us anymore. They can’t be judged by us.”

“B-but,” Gabriel started to stutter.

“We could try and force Aziraphale to fall, but something tells me it wouldn’t work. There’s no where else for the demon to go, he certainly wouldn’t be welcomed back here if it were possible.” She paused, studying Gabriel who remained baffled. “They aren’t of heaven or hell. They are of humanity.” She took the glass Aziraphale had still been holding from him, than miracled it away. “We need to let them go.”

“Let them go?” He repeated. “Just like that, let them go? What about punishment? What about making an example?!”

“I think it’s safe to say that they will never be welcomed back in Heaven or in Hell,” She replied, turning to Beelzebub with a brow arched.

“Wazn’t exactly welcome to begin with.” They muttered.

Michael turned back to Gabriel, “See.” She said. “We let them go, but they can never return.”

“And if they discorporate?” he asked.

“Then a body will be given to them promptly, and they’ll be sent back.” She stepped closer. “Better than having them around where others may see them and _question_.”

Gabriel seemed to think on this, glancing at Beelzebub who appeared more bored than anything. They made a gesture, arms flailing and eyes bugging in a way that screamed, “sounds fine to me, can we get on with it”?

Gabriel’s lip twitched ever so slightly. “Fine.” He relented, and Crowley swore he heard a groan of disappointment from Sandalphon. “Go,” Gabriel added, waving them off.

For just a moment, Crowley considered asking for his jacket and tie, maybe his sunglasses. But when he took a step out of the fire, Aziraphale was at his side, hand sliding around to grip Crowley by the elbow, and began to lead him to the exit.

He kept his mouth shut instead.

* * *

“Do you think they’ll leave us alone now?” Crowley asked him as they sat together on a bench in the garden. He was half laying against Aziraphale, sat in his usual, awkward way but using Aziraphale as a sort of backrest. He didn’t mind, not at all. He’d moved his arm to have it rest around Crowley instead, keeping it free. He wanted to play with the demon’s hair, but that was probably a bit much for being out in public.

“At a guess, they’ll pretend it never happened.” Aziraphale replied.

“Do you understand…?” Crowley asked tilting his head back just a bit.

Aziraphale shook his head. “I think I do, I want to believe I do, but… no. I can’t for absolute certainty I know what happened.” He paused. “Beelzebub said we’d gone native, but that’s not quite right. I can feel my wings, my grace, my connection to heaven. I sense your demonic aura, and I’m willing to bet you are as intact as I am.” Crowley hummed his confirmation. “I believe, really, that maybe Adam had done something when he changed reality.”

“That’s a possibility.” Crowley agreed. “We said we’d be there, for good or for evil. If he severed our connections in a small sense, just enough that we’re on our own side. On his side.” He tilted his head to the side thoughtfully. “I think this will be used as breathing space before the big one. All of us against all of them.”

“Heaven and Hell against humanity?” Aziraphale asked. And that did seem the most likely, didn’t it? But was Adam going to live to see it, or perhaps he just realized who humanity’s best protectors would be?

He glanced skyward as ray of sun shone on their little bench, the light a little warmer than normal, feeling almost divine in the literal sense.

Well, maybe this was how it was supposed to work out in the end. A bit of heaven, a bit of hell, everything that it meant to be human being looked after by two beings who truly loved it all. It was … well, he wouldn’t say it. There wasn’t a need to.

“Tempt you to a spot of lunch?” Crowley asked, leaning back again.

“Temptation accomplished.” Aziraphale replied with a smile, one his serpent returned before leaning up and kissing him quickly, then practically slithering off the bench. “Perhaps after we can see if the bookstore was restored, seeing as how the Bentley was.”

“What ever you want, angel.” Crowley said as he reached down and took Aziraphale’s hand, helping him up. He didn’t let go.

_“I wish we’d done this sooner,” Crowley said as they were pressed together in tangled sheets, the moon still high and shining bright. “Think of what we could have had.”_

_“I know,” Aziraphale replied, pressing his forehead to Crowley’s closing his eyes. “I’m sorry. But you have me now, I’m yours. For as long as I exist, you’ll have me.”_

_“Even if you exist for longer than a few more hours?” He said with a slightly teasing lilt, trying to keep the levity of the evening high._

_“Oh, dearest. I swear it, as long as I exist.”_

_"You’ve always had me.” Crowley said, shifting to kiss Aziraphale’s forehead. “And you always will.”_


End file.
